


The Value of an Omega

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF John Watson, Case Fic, Clubbing, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We have a serial killer, targeting unbonded male omegas near heat, and you went off your suppressants.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes wasn’t like any other omega John had ever met. The ones he’d known in the army had a healthy sexual appetite, even with the suppressants. Some even chose to mate and leave the service.

Not that any omega had captured John Watson’s eyes as anything more than a quick tumble. There had been a few betas too; he wasn’t always the pickiest after a few pints. But bonding was an entirely different affair and he loved the work and the service too much for that thought to ever cross his mind.

When a bullet sent him home, the only thoughts he had about mating were that no omega would want an alpha with a dodgy leg and shoulder. Let alone deal with the nightmares and his general uselessness.

So he’d been very surprised when Sherlock had come into his life like an unexpected hurricane. That the man was an omega was obvious even to John, but it was also just as clear that he had zero interest in matters of the flesh. Mycroft kept him supplied with suppressants. John was perfectly capable of controlling his own urges and they formed a friendship as strong as any mate-bond. If John occasionally had traitorous thoughts about his flatmate, well it was bound to happen living so close to an omega. He would, of course, never do anything that would hurt Sherlock.

But living so close was the reason he could smell something different as he came down the stairs this morning in his robe. Sherlock sat at the table, studying something on John’s laptop. The phone vibrated next to a mug of tea gone cold. Sherlock glanced at it. “Let’s go,” he said, folding the paper, then glancing up. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Two minutes,” John turned and headed back upstairs, wishing vaguely there was time for a cold shower.

By the time he reappeared, Sherlock had his coat and scarf on, practically pushing John into his jacket. “Case, I take it?”

“Obviously.” Sherlock hurried down the stairs.

Before long they were standing in a flat just this side of posh. The corpse was wrapped in a robe and lying on his front room floor. Sherlock immediately launched into speech. “Male, thirty two.” He crouched down close. “Omega. Near heat. Unbonded. Like the others, Lestrade?”

John crouched down to examine the bullet hole in the man’s head while Sherlock and Lestrade talked.

“Yes, well Molly will have to check to be certain. This is the fifth. I had her check one from a couple weeks ago.”

John looked up. “Five bodies?” Adrenaline spiked in his system. “Serial killer?”

Sherlock sighed and went to examine the other rooms in the flat, leaving Lestrade to explain. He shifted a bit as he looked at John, clearly uncomfortable. “They’re not just killing these omegas, they seem to be harvesting the ovaries.”

John’s eyebrows went all the way up to his hairline. “Taking them for the heat pheromones? Or some other reason?”

“That’s why we asked you two to come.”

Something clicked in John’s head. He looked at the direction Sherlock had gone. He silently muttered a curse, but his face must have shown something because Lestrade gave him a look of concern. John shook his head and went to find his mad flatmate. “Sherlock.”

The man was examining a lamp. “Tell Lestrade this was used as a defensive weapon.”

“I heard  you,” Lestrade came up behind them.

Sherlock looked around the room, gave a few more statements and headed for the door. “We’ll be in touch,” said John, following him out.

The man was halfway down the hall. John hurried after him, grabbing his shoulder. “Sherlock.”

Fear crossed Sherlock’s face for half a moment as he faced him. John let go and took a breath. “We have a serial killer, targeting unbonded male omegas near heat, and you went off your suppressants.”

“Yes.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Okay, what next then.”

“Home for now. May need to stop by the morgue later. Possibly the club tonight.”

“Club? I’m not exactly ‘club material’, Sherlock.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sherlock waved a card at him before heading down the stairs. “I’ll pick out an outfit for you.”

“Fantastic,” muttered John as he followed him out.


	2. Chapter 2

John insisted they stop for breakfast. He noticed more people than usual turning their heads as Sherlock walked by. It made him want to bare his teeth, but he concentrated on walking behind the detective, knowing the man was pouring over facts in his mind.

They sat in a booth and John dug into a plate. “You’re acting more alpha,” Sherlock said, watching him closely.

“Well your scent is different. Besides, I always watch out for you.”

Sherlock’s eyes turned unreadable. John ate and made a conscious effort not to look more than twice at the young woman across the restaurant nearly staring at Sherlock. After all, it was his job to keep the man safe, no matter what he did. Even if he did incredibly insane things, like bait serial killers.

While John ate, Sherlock buried himself in his phone, glancing at a business card.

“Is that the card you got from the crime scene? Lestrade will probably want that back.”

“It’s a fairly new club, apparently growing in popularity with the unbonded set. Doesn’t open until this evening. Plenty of time to visit the morgue.”

Someone else glanced their way at the word. John gave them a half smile and finished his tea. “Let’s go then.”

Molly looked troubled as they came in. “This last one is the same as the others. Ovaries removed.”

Sherlock looked at her, then moved to the corpse. “What don’t you want to tell me?”

Molly wrapped her arms around her clipboard. “What makes you say that?”

The detective gave her a withering look. “The ovaries were removed while the victim was alive. And conscious. Yes?”

She nodded, not even bothering to ask for an explanation. As John looked at the body he could see signs of struggle. Sherlock launched into his deductions. “The man willingly got undressed. Perhaps a nocturnal assignation. Entrance point of a needle here, bare flesh, not through any sort of clothing. Signs of struggle, however, he knew he was pricked. Hands and….ankles bound.” He looked closer at the scars on the man’s abdomen. “Trained surgeon.”

“One person?” asked John, looking him over.

“Obviously. One doesn’t generally take home more than one person, even if they’re omega.”

John raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t implying that they did. He just seems physically fit to be knocked out.”

Sherlock glanced over. “When one is preparing to have sex with another person, there is generally a bit of trust and vulnerability, is there not?”

Shifting his feet, John licked his lips. “That’s true. So I take it that’s why we’re going to the club tonight.”

Molly blinked at them. Sherlock ignored her. “Yes.” He turned and swept out of the room.

John gave Molly an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”  He hurried after him.

**

John took a brief nap when they got home in anticipation of a long night, while Sherlock planted himself on the couch and apparently dived into his mind palace.

By the time John made his way back downstairs he found Sherlock applying eyeliner with surprising expertise. He was dressed in ripped jeans, a faded band t-shirt and his hair was operating on extra tousled. For an added touch he wore a leather collar around his throat.

John stared, trying to adjust his sudden erection without Sherlock noticing. “Your clothes are in your chair,” said Sherlock without turning around.

Shaking his head, John walked over and picked them up. “Leather? Sherlock, are you serious?”

Sherlock turned and gave him a look.

“Oh don’t give me those eyes,” John grumbled. He collected the clothes. “I don’t even know how you expect me to fit into them.” He turned and marched towards the bathroom, completely missing the sly grin on Sherlock’s face.

In a few minutes he stepped out, feeling more self-conscious than in a very long time. Not only were the trousers leather, but t-shirt was tight. He also wore a leather bracelet that matched Sherlock’s collar. “For tonight, pretend that we are bonded,” said Sherlock, as he looked him over.

 _Easy enough_ , thought John. “Of course I can do that.”

“If the search proves fruitful we may return to the club later this week. For now though, reconnaissance.”

“Just be careful, I can’t very well carry my gun in this getup,” John grumbled and fidgeted with the shirt.

Sherlock walked towards him, holding a handful of gel menacingly.

“Really? My hair isn’t good enough? Can’t leave me with any dignity?” John backed away from the look in Sherlock’s eyes.

“You look too military otherwise.”

John tripped over the coffee table and Sherlock caught his arm, liberally spiking his hair while John closed his eyes and hoped like hell there was no one he knew at this club or he’d never hear the end of it.

“Much better,” Sherlock set him on his feet and looked him over.

John felt rather like he was on display already. He took a breath. No, people had to believe that Sherlock was his omega at this club. He reached over and grabbed Sherlock’s arm, tugging him close. He ran a finger along the collar, breathing in Sherlock’s scent. “Remember who you belong to. If I tell you something, listen.”

Sherlock’s eyes went unreadable again. He gave a curt nod. “Of course. Let’s get a cab.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm indebted to [reapersun](http://reapersun.tumblr.com/post/37795898975/full-res-1-2-30-day-otp-challenge-day-15-in-a#notes) for the image of John and Sherlock getting ready to go to a club.


	3. Chapter 3

The club looked like virtually any other from the outside. There was a small line of people, but Sherlock went straight to the bouncer. A few quick moments of negotiation and money changing hands and they were gestured inside.

John took Sherlock’s arm before the taller man could vanish down the corridor. “Playing bonded, remember?”

Sherlock looked at him, face hidden in shadows. “You would keep me always in sight if we were?”

John smiled. “I never can, even if I want to. But I’d try and make sure you were close for the first bit while we’re in a strange place. Make sure you’d be okay.” He squeezed Sherlock’s arm in a way that he hoped was reassuring. Sherlock nodded and started to drop behind him as they walked. John took his hand and tugged him so they were even. “You never have to walk behind me.”

There was a noise from Sherlock, but if it was words they were lost in the heavy beat of music as they came into the main club. The place was crowded, with a dance floor to the right and a long bar to the left. A few heads turned to watch Sherlock, but when they saw his collar and the man next to him they turned away.

John tugged Sherlock towards the bar, seeing how the man was taking in the details of the club. John made a quick mental note of the emergency exits before stepping up and ordering two drinks. Sherlock moved away a bit, but John could still smell him; reassuring.

Looking over the club he noticed there were quite a few older people like himself. At least that made him feel a little better. “That your omega?” asked a woman at his elbow. John glanced at her and sniffed. Alpha.

“Yes.” Sherlock was chatting up a man.

“Omega that pretty I wouldn’t let off his leash.” John turned, growling low in his throat.

She smiled and moved away. John turned to find Sherlock watching him, the man having moved off. Finishing his drink, he took Sherlock’s hand. “Want to dance?”

The look on his face told John it was the last thing he’d expected. Good, surprising Sherlock was a rare treat. Squeezing his hand, he led him out to the floor. A smile tweaked his face as John started moving with the rhythm. No doubt he was making a spectacle of himself, but hell, might as well try to have fun. Or perhaps that was the drink talking.

A man moved behind Sherlock and put a hand on his hip. John moved even before he saw the heartbeat of panic on Sherlock’s face and grabbed the front of the alpha’s shirt. “Hands off,” he growled.

“He’s not bonded. fair game.”

“He’s with me.”

The man looked down at John, clearly weighing his options. Feeling the man’s weight shift, John brought his arm back and punched him, sending him stumbling back as he let go of his shirt. Club goers scattered out of the way. Suddenly  bouncers grabbed John. He lost track of Sherlock as he was forcibly ejected from the club, tripping into the alley.

A moment later his phone chirped: _Excellent distraction - SH_

_I don’t want you in there by yourself - JW_

There was a long silence. John paced, trying to resist the urge to kick the dumpster in frustration.

_If I tell you to meet me at home, will you? - SH_

_No - JW_

A bit more silence while John stared at his phone.

_On my way out. Get a cab. - SH_

John huffed out a breath and went to get one. Sherlock appeared at his elbow just as the cab pulled up. Once they were safely inside, Sherlock reached up and removed the collar. John watched him in the window’s reflection. The collar had left a faint indent and John felt the urge to mark, making him twitch. There was a bit of sadness too; the one omega he might choose to bond with had no interest.

“Thank you,” Sherlock’s voice was quiet.

John raised an eyebrow as he faced him. “For what?”

Instead of answering, Sherlock reached over and took the leather band off John’s wrist. The gesture felt intimate and did nothing to calm his erection or the flush of his cheeks. Here in the close confines of the cab the omega smelled even more delicious. Sherlock met his eyes a moment, just as the cab pulled up. He hurried out and inside, leaving John to pay the cabbie, wondering what on earth he’d do when the man had a proper heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness there a lot of subscribers. O.o. Hello there *waves*. I don't think this story will be very long all together, but I do hope you enjoy it!


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning John woke to the sound of rain on the roof and the violin downstairs. He ran his hand through his sticky hair, grumbling about having gone to bed without a shower. Damn Sherlock and his hair gel.

In dire need of tea, John pulled on his robe and made his way to the bathroom. He didn’t hear the violin stop, but the kettle was going when he stepped out of the shower and into the kitchen. Sherlock’s scent was stronger and he knew the man must be edging towards a heat.

John carried his tea to the table and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Sherlock started playing faster. Shaking his head, he picked up the paper. There was article about the latest murder, but it looked like Lestrade had kept most of the lurid details out of the news.

Abruptly Sherlock put down his violin, going into his room. Figuring they were heading out, John hurried to get dressed, coming back down as Sherlock was putting on his scarf.

“Lead?” he asked.

“There’s a man who might have seen our killer. He tried to warn me away from the club after you were removed.”

John swallowed a protest about his reason for the ejection, instead pulling on his coat and following Sherlock out.

The cab deposited them in front of a block of flats that practically screamed young professional. Sherlock knocked on a door. There was the rattle of a chain and a ginger young man peeked out. His eyes fell on John. “He’s an alpha.” Clearly he was scared.

“John has no more desire to harm you than I do.”

He hesitated, then let them in. John smiled and offered his hand. “John Watson.”

“Bernard Smith,” the man shook with a weak grip before going to put the kettle on. Sherlock’s eyes swept the small flat.

“Your mother warned you against coming to the city,” he announced. “You’re thinking of going home.”

There was the clatter of a dropped mug. Bernard looked pale as he stepped out of the kitchen. “How do you know that?”

Sherlock pointed at a framed photo. “You and your mother. No father or other siblings; you’re close. But that’s also why you left. You were feeling suffocated, typical. As for going home you have a duffel half-packed with clothes, but nothing sentimental. You haven’t quite convinced yourself to leave, despite the scare.”

Bernard gaped. John bit back a smile and stepped into the kitchen to finish fixing the tea, putting a cup in Bernard’s shaking hand. The man sank to a seat at his table. “I won’t ask how you found me.”

Turning to business, Sherlock watched him. “This man you met at the club, what did he tell you?”

Bernard took a sip then looked into the mug as if it would provide answers. “Just that an omega like me should mate soon, or it would be a waste.”

“But he frightened you worse than a terrible pick up line.”

“He felt…wrong. Alpha, but there was something different.”

Sherlock’s fingers were steepeled under his chin. “Possibly he was bonded before, but something happened to his previous partner.”

Bernard looked up quickly. “What, like he killed his mate?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “What made you jump to that conclusion.”

Swallowing, Bernard looked back down at his mug. “I don’t know.” He chugged his tea.

“But when you saw me last night in the club, you told me to be careful. You didn’t know me, so why?”

Bernard shrugged. “I could smell you’re unbounded. I didn’t see him after he walked away from me, but I thought he might still be around. Wanted to help a fellow omega out.”

Sherlock crouched down so they were eye level. “Describe him for me.”

Bernard did so with a tremble in his voice. John saw the way Sherlock watched him closely, no doubt reading everything between the lines.

Nodding, Sherlock stood. “Stay in town. Your mum does hope you succeed.” He turned and walked out.

“Thank you for your time,” John smiled at Bernard before hurrying out after Sherlock.

 


	5. Chapter 5

John had to work a few hours the next day. He left Sherlock lying out on the couch, no doubt having a good think.

The day went by quickly enough, though John’s thoughts kept turning to Sherlock, even more than usual. He’d be going into full heat soon. John wondered if he was prepared. No doubt it had been a long time since he’d experienced one. In between patients John read up on helping an omega through heat, wanting to be ready if Sherlock needed him.

Finally he made his way home. Sherlock was still on the couch. “Did you eat today?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. John sighed and went to the fridge. He jumped as Sherlock’s voice came just behind him. “You should go get some takeaway.”

John turned to face him. “This close to heat you should really eat more than curry.”

“I will be fine.” Sherlock reached past John to check a bottle in the fridge, giving him a nose full of pheromones. He took a breath and stepped back, tampering down the urge to pin the man to the table. He wondered if Sherlock had done that on purpose. Probably testing him.

“Right, curry.” John turned on his heel and headed out of the flat.

When he returned twenty minutes later the flat was empty. John set the bag on the table and saw the eyeliner. He blinked and cursed, pulling out his phone and calling Sherlock as he hurried up to his room. No answer. He fired off a text. _Did you go to the club without me? – JW_

The silence was deafening. Cursing, John grabbed his gun and hurried out to catch a cab.

The ride was interminable. Paying the driver, John hurried to the bouncer. The big man put a hand on his chest. “No, you already got thrown out this week.”

“He was pawing at my…” he searched for the right word. “Friend. He might be in trouble in there.”

“I’m sure he’s old enough to take care of himself. And thems the rules.” He gave a gentle push.

John turned away and ran his hands through his hair as he looked at the sidewalk and tried to think. Someone bumped into him and he looked up, just catching a glimpse of dark curls disappearing into a cab. “Sherlock?”

The cab took off. John put his hand in his pocket and was surprised to feel the leather collar. _That man_ really _needs to stop getting into cabs with serial killers_. He moved to the alley and pulled the collar out. It smelled like Sherlock, bitter and hard edges, but a hint of something softer underneath. “Where are you going?” he asked the leather in his hands.

The phone chirped an email alert. John stuffed the collar back in his pocket and pulled out the phone instead. A hotel reservation for tonight. Maybe the idiot wasn’t completely stupid after all. Or he was learning. He hurried back to get another cab.

Pulling up, John saw the hotel was small and on the cheap side. He sniffed the damp air as he got out, surprised to realize he could still detect a faint hint of Sherlock in the air. Now to find the man. The front desk wasn’t likely to give him a room number. He closed his eyes and let his more alpha instincts kick in, clutching the collar in his pocket.

Nodding to himself he moved fast. He could tell Sherlock was just at the cusp of heat. Turning down a hallway he could tell it was getting stronger, but now he could smell fear as well. He broke into a run, pounding down the hallway.

He came to a halt in front of a door. A telly blared inside, no doubt covering up any noise. He tried the handle and found it locked. Backing up, he kicked the door just above the handle. A second kick threw it open.

The killer was coming at him with a scalpel in hand. John grabbed his wrist and used his momentum against him, twisting his arm and throwing him against the wall. The man kicked back, knocking John off balance. The scalpel swept through the air; he barely moved his head in time, bouncing off the opposite wall and coming back with a punch. John grabbed the man’s shirt as the scalpel dropped, punching him again, and once more until he heard Sherlock weakly calling his name.

Dropping the unconscious man, John turned to look. Sherlock’s hands were bound to the bed, clothes pushed to the side and a single incision just below his abdomen. Taking a breath, John yanked out his phone and sent a message to Lestrade before reaching the bed and grabbing the portable medical kit on the end table. “I’ve got you.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Lestrade and his team arrived just as John finished stitching Sherlock up. Thankfully the cut wasn’t too deep. He squeezed Sherlock’s hand and turned to explain his version of what had happened to the Inspector, taking a good look at the man slowly gaining consciousness by the door. He was shocked to realize it was Bernard Smith.

Sherlock must have seen his reaction. He waved Lestrade closer so he wouldn’t have to speak twice. “There weren’t any alpha pheromones at the crime scene, so the killer had to be omega or beta. Omega was more likely. Bernard was trying to throw me off.”

“You can explain everything later,” said Lestrade kindly. “I’m sure John just wants to get you home.”

“Yes, he needs to rest.” John helped him up, looping the taller man’s arm around his neck.

“I’ll drive you two home. You’re not going to take a cab in his condition.” Lestrade fished out his keys.

John blinked and looked at Sherlock, realizing that in all the excitement his heat had started. “Yes, thank you.”

Sherlock leaned against him in the back of the car. John rubbed soothing circles on his back. He declined Lestrade’s offer to help get him upstairs. Carefully, he got him into his room. He got Sherlock’s boots off before settling him into the bed and heading for the door.

“John,” Sherlock’s voice trembled. “Stay with me.”

Perching on the edge of the bed, John touched his hand. “You’re going into heat. It’ll be full blown by morning.” He tried to use his best doctor voice, but he was well aware of the pheromones in the room

“You help.” Sherlock raised his hand and, for the first time, John noticed he was wearing the leather band. Taking a breath, John leaned forward and nuzzled his hand.

“I can smell you,” confessed Sherlock softly, closing his eyes. “Your pheromones are mixing with mine, even just being in the same room.” He shifted his hips. “My body wants…”

“But you don’t.” John shed his jacket and climbed up next to him. Every physical part of him wanted to take and claim. Instead he put his hands on the slender man’s torso. Sherlock jerked away from the touch. “When was the last time you had a heat?” asked John.

“Seventeen.” Sherlock looked away.

“Someone hurt you?”

“I’ve simply never had an interest in sex. But there was a particularly aggressive alpha who couldn’t believe I wouldn’t throw myself at him. He threatened to teach me a lesson about what an omega was good for. Never actually touched me as he vanished shortly afterward. I’ve always suspected Mycroft had something to do with that.”

John could imagine what the elder Holmes would do to an alpha that threatened his brother. He folded his hands on his leg. “I want you, Sherlock, no point denying that. But on your terms.  You’ve never had any interest in mating, so I have no intention of forcing you to do so now.”

Sherlock leaned over and nuzzled his neck. John bit his lips until he tasted blood to keep from moving. “Will you bond with me?” asked Sherlock quietly.

John mentally counted to ten, then twenty. Making a decision, he pulled off his jumper. Sherlock’s hand brushed his chest, but he slipped out of bed. “Ask me when you’re out of heat.” He left the jumper and grabbed his jacket, using his last remaining bit of willpower to leave the room and close the door behind him.

Forcing himself to walk away, he went into the kitchen and turned the kettle on. He picked up his phone and texted Mycroft. Sherlock’s scent was filling the flat. Changing his mind and turning the kettle off again, he grabbed a piece of paper:

_I’m going to stay with Mike Stamford for a few days until this is over.  I let Mycroft know what was going on, so I’m certain he’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I’m leaving because I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll be home soon as I can. Don’t tear your stitches. – John_

He left it on the table, knowing Mycroft or his people would get it to Sherlock, not trusting himself to even walk to the door again. He’d never had such a strong reaction to an omega. Taking one more breath he headed up to his room to pack a small bag, putting the gun back in the drawer and texting Mike.

While he stood outside waiting for Mike to pick him up he clutched the collar In his pocket.

 


	7. Chapter 7

John returned to the flat four days later, after getting the all clear from Mycroft. There had been no messages from Sherlock. Climbing the stairs and pushing open the door, he found Sherlock laid out on the couch in his pyjamas and robe, eyes closed. All in all, everything looked just as it should.

He dropped his bag upstairs in his room and came back down. Giving Sherlock another look, he went to fix a cuppa, noticing a fresh jar of eyeballs next to the milk. At least that hadn’t gone off yet. The milk. Who knew about the eyeballs. Probably Mycroft had made sure they had groceries since John hadn’t been here to do the shopping. He fixed his flatmate a cuppa as well and carried them into the front room, sitting Sherlock’s on the coffee table before settling into his chair and grabbing his laptop.

The smells of the flat had returned to normal as well, leaving only the barest hint of Sherlock’s recent heat. John heard Sherlock shift and pick up the mug, but kept his eyes on his email.

“Mike is well?” asked Sherlock.

“Yes, fine. The usual.” John set the laptop aside. “May I check your stitches?”

Sherlock nodded and shifted his clothes. John knelt by the couch. Everything looked to be healing well. He grabbed some disinfectant and went over the wound quickly. “Probably take them out in a week or so.”

Picking up John’s hand, Sherlock touched a scab on the back of it. “He cut you as well.”

“Not that much. Thank you for emailing me the hotel.”

“I didn’t expect him to drug me in the cab, but it seemed wise to let you know my final destination.”

“And you didn’t want me at the club because I would have interfered.”

Sherlock sipped his tea. “Obviously.”

“Just glad I got there in time.” John fixed Sherlock’s clothes and retreated back to his seat. “Do you know why he did it?”

“Apparently he’d been rejected by a few alphas, decided it was due to his age and so turned to putting other omegas ‘out of their misery’.”

John shook his head. “Seems an awful extreme reaction, but I suppose you never know what will make a bloke snap.”

“Indeed.” They lapsed into silence as they both drank their tea.

Setting down his cup, Sherlock spoke again. “Do you think we should bond?”

John turned and watched him. “Do you want to mate?”

The man shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable as he picked at his robe.

“Sherlock, look at me.”

Uncertain pale eyes met his.

“We’re already bonded. I don’t need to mark you to know that.”

Sherlock dropped his gaze and rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I ruined your jumper.”

John smiled. “I’d imagine so. Are you back on your suppressants?”

Sherlock nodded and settled back on the couch with both his hands around his mug.

“Then everything is back to normal.”

There was a small smile on Sherlock’s face. John picked up the laptop and for the moment all was quiet in Baker Street. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I know this probably wasn't a typical omegaverse story, but I've very much enjoyed writing it. I've also been very grateful for all the lovely comments. I'll probably write in omegaverse more at some point, and there's plenty of other stuff on here I've written.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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